Domestically Spoiled
by Ms. International
Summary: Denmark comes home late from work to Norway and Iceland. A warm house is not a warm house without love and a little bit of teasing. ((Domestic AU, human names used; I took this down then put it back up again 'cause I forgot to edit the 2nd paragraph. Sorry!))


"2 A.M.? You've got to be kidding me." Magnus whispered to himself in an almost awed fashion as he finally noticed the glowing numbers on his watch. Well, it was expected he would get home late. After all, he did leave the bar around 1:30. No, wait-it was 1:40. The city was about 10 minutes from his house so…

Too tired to even do the math, he sighed and turned off the ignition. Although there was a considerable distance between his and Erik's cars, he still took great care in opening the door lest he bang it on Erik's Honda. The last thing he needed was another night on the couch. And people thought he was the fussy one when it came to automobiles. Thankfully, he slid out in one fluid motion, briefcase in hand as he moved to close the garage door from the outside.

Shivering a little in the cold, he jingled his keys as he walked up the steps to the porch, he noticed the soft yellow glow of lights coming from the windows. He was pretty sure that Erik was already fast asleep in bed- the man had last texted him around 12; unless he drank around 5 cups of coffee again in the afternoon, then no. Or it could be Emil who was up watching reruns of ski competitions. Emil wasn't even a fan of winter sports. But it was most probably Erik.

The door opens with a groan, and Magnus gratefully steps inside the warm house.

"Hon? I'm home!" He gets no reply but continues on anyway, pulling off his coat and hanging it on the coat rack by the door. He toes off his leather shoes too, leaving them neatly arranged beside a pair of neon colored Nikes.

Before he can get another go at calling Erik (or Emil) though, he's interrupted by a voice to his right.

"I heard you from outside, you know."

"Oh." Magnus' face breaks out into a small smile at the sight of his husband curled up on the sofa with a book. Ever the ironic minx, Erik pulls himself off the cushions and goes over to press a slow kiss to his mouth in a picture of domestic bliss. It's a 'welcome home' kind of kiss and Magnus drops his suitcase to place his hands around his waist.

"You're late." Erik remarks, his nose scrunching in disgust as he pulls away. "And you smell like cigarettes. Where the hell did you go?"

"Bar. Night out with Lars." Magnus shrugs offhandedly as Erik brushes off imaginary dust from his suit.

"Again?" Erik gives him one last kiss before retreating into the kitchen entryway.

"How long have you been waiting for me?"

"About an hour and a half," Erik quips as he glances at the wall clock.

Magnus sheds off his suit jacket and places it on the back of an armchair before following Erik into the kitchen.

"Have you eaten dinner yet?"

"Nope," he replies, picking up an apple from the fruit basket on the kitchen counter and playing with it as Erik pulled out a plate from one of the overhead cabinets.

"Why'd you skip dinner then?"

"Last minute meeting with the PM. Something about Berwald."

"Liar." Erik pauses in his movements to stare at Magnus.

"No, really."

"If this has something to do with you sending hate mail to IKEA again, I swear to God-"

"That was one time, butterbutt! One time! Can't you let that go?"

"An idiot like you needs constant reminding, so no." There's a pause as Erik opens the fridge and rummages around. "What do you want for dinner?" he asks, his back to Magnus.

"I don't know. Any leftovers from dinner a while ago?"

"Lasagna. Emil wants to complete the eat-pasta-for-a-whole-week dare given to him by Matthew."

"He's going to throw up one of these days."

"He looked particularly green when we were eating."

The two chuckle at that, the idea of Emil throwing up too amusing a thought to entertain.

"Actually," Magnus begins, walking around the kitchen counter to stand behind Erik, "what I want for dinner is you." He says the last part as a low whisper, using his body to trap the Norwegian against the counter. "On the dining table right now." His hands drift down to caress Erik's bare thighs, and he's placing open mouthed kisses to the Norwegian's neck that's making soft smacking noises, but Erik is simply unfazed by Magnus' attempts to seduce him.

"You want to risk waking Emil?" He scoffs and slaps away the Dane's hands, turning around to face him.

"It's not like we're going to be loud, anyway. Just keep the shouting and moaning to a minimum."

"Excuse you, but you're the one who shouts every time-"

"And you're the one who becomes a moaning mess every time I-"

"No." Erik cuts him off entirely, crossing his arms.

"Yes." Magnus moves to take a step closer. He's about to close the distance between them when he suddenly hears the sound of a door open and close, followed by thumping on the stairs.

Erik smirks as he shakes his head sympathetically at Magnus' disappointed expression.

"Maybe next time, lover boy." Like a laser pointer to a cat, Erik taunts him with a chaste kiss to the lips. Next time it is then, Magnus thinks, tempted to slap back Erik's behind in retaliation. He's stopped however, when a groggy Emil with serious bedhead and half-closed eyes appears in the kitchen. The teen trudges over to the fridge, opens the freezer, and turns to face Erik.

"M'hungry. Want ice cream." The words are an intangible mess of mumbles, but his intentions are otherwise understood.

"It's late, Emil. Go back to sleep."

"Hmph." Emil pulls a face, but otherwise meanders off towards where Magnus is standing and hugs him.

"Hi." It comes out as another mumble as the Icelander's face is buried in the fabric of his red dress shirt. Either he doesn't notice the stench of cigarettes or he's ignoring it.

"Hi Runí. Why'd you wake up?"

"My Spidey-senses were tingling."

Emil once told him that he could tell whenever one of them came home. He had this uncanny ability to sense if they were parking the cars or not. And strangely, he was always right.

"Oh?"

Emil nods sleepily and turns to look up at him. He's a little shorter than Erik, so he just comes around to Magnus' shoulders.

"Can I eat ice cream?"

Frankly, he doesn't really need to ask. He knows his father's going to say yes, anyway, and so does Erik. He just wants to rub it in his brother's face.

Magnus laughs and ruffles his hair. "Yeah, you can."

Victorious, Emil sticks his tongue out at Erik, who frowns and crosses his arms. In an effort to piss him off even more, Emil literally dumps a whole pint of Ben &amp; Jerry's 'Chunky Monkey' ice cream into a large bowl, sprays it with what might be half of the whipped cream can, and adds a butt load of sprinkles and chocolate chips. When he's finally settled in the living room later on though, watching My Little Pony (again!), Erik turns to Magnus with another glare.

"You're spoiling him."

"Jealous that I don't spoil you?" Giving him a wolfish grin, Magnus adds, "I'll make it up to you later," lifting his chin in a smug invitation to join him in the shower.

"You better."


End file.
